


Miraculous

by kuro49



Series: thirty days of writing [3]
Category: Luther (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Above, there is an attic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miraculous

There is also a body (maybe two, bodies are body parts and there are more than ten fingers in the mangled mess left behind. You do not see that at first glance but he does, he always does. It is what makes him so good at his job, it is what keeps you still new at this but you do not see it for the blessing that it is).

You wonder whether you are always going to end up here. Whether here is where you are meant to be.

Because below, there is John Luther standing next to you, where the both of you have your head tilting up to see what is most definitely not a water stain spreading across the ceiling. The job is in Luther’s blood.

There is a calling for something like this, you are not entirely sure your name is being said.

You have not bled enough to know it like he does. You only catch the tail end of that change in expression when he is faced with the carnage, the blood that soaks through the floorboards to the ceiling below. It is in the slight turn of his head when he makes that final step into the crowded space, ducking behind the police line, just a step behind the coroner.

This is not the case that sticks to your skin.

There are worse ones to be seen.

It reeks but it passes. Because you are green behind the ears, still capable of shaking off the dead. It reeks and it stays for him, trapped in the fabric of his clothes, in his hair, beneath his nails. It reeks, you wake up, and it passes like smoke.

You have a hard time not wanting to be just like him even as you become too loyal (laughably so), and you can wonder whether you are always going to end up here (by some miracle, there is no split second decision that doesn’t end with you, with pain in every gasp, blood in those last few breaths).

You can wonder, even when you cannot imagine getting here any other way.


End file.
